


lose control (gain your heart)

by sunshine_kitcat (moonkevin)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Death, Dating Sim AU, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not Really Character Death, Self-Discovery, Strangers to Lovers, Temporary Character Death, honestly i have no idea what this is, icb thats not a tag what a Crime, if it was a fic, like the song structure, this is basically punch the song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28029423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonkevin/pseuds/sunshine_kitcat
Summary: “What’s going on?” Yangyang asks, helplessly lost.Alternatively, the Jaemyang/Sungtaro dating sim au (with a twist!) no one asked for but is getting anyway.
Relationships: Jung Sungchan/Osaki Shotaro, Liu Yang Yang/Na Jaemin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60
Collections: WIP OLYMPICS: WINTER 2020/21





	1. Sungchan

**Author's Note:**

> i honestly have no idea what this is but haha! you clicked on it! have fun I guess?

_ Loading… _

_ Loading… _

_ Loading… _

_ … _

_ Load Successful. _

_ Now Activating: Game Launch Sequence. _

_ … _

_ Please don’t turn off your console while the save file is loading. _

_ …  _

_ Please enter your character’s name: _

_... _

_ Welcome to Neo City: Beta Version, Jung Sungchan. _

Sungchan blinks his eyes open slowly, watching as colour and light slowly fills his vision. Sungchan groans groggily, pushing himself up as he blinks rapidly, adjusting his eyes to the light.

Sungchan glances around, inspecting his surroundings. He seems to be in a tiny bedroom, decorated sparsely. A banner is hung up on the back wall, next to the cream-coloured closet door, reading ‘What’s the best department at NCT U? The ARTs!”. Under the banner is a small desk, donning a small white lamp and a mismatch of textbooks, snacks and a laptop.

Sungchan lets his eyes continue to drift around the room, noting his current position as well. He’s sitting up on a bed, the sheets neat and made under him, a stark contrast to the rest of the messy room. Clothes are strewn out and about, covering every inch of floor space not taken up by the massive rub between the bed and the desk. Sungchan stares at it, tracing the words ‘Neo City’ and swirly designs with his eyes. It looks like a logo of sorts, he notes.

Finally, Sungchan drifts his gaze to the space in front of his closet, where a glowing boy sat atop a bedside table, staring at Sungchan blankly. Sungchan flinches, a stifled scream lodging in his throat at the sight of the boy.

“Welcome to Neo City: Beta Version!” the boy chirped, a weird lilt of positivity to his tone. He seems somewhat eager, yet it sounded more like he was awkwardly reading out of a script. He’s somewhat cute like that though, features soft and human-like, even if he seems anything but. Sungchan internally combusts at the sight, from the boy’s gentle eyes and bright smile to his clumsy robotic mannerism.

Sungchan squints at him, noticing a strange glow to the boy. He looked real enough, sure, but there was something weirdly… digital about it.

“Who are you?” Sungchan asks, somewhat confused and wary. The boy beamed, as if satisfied Sungchan was sticking to some kind of script.

“My name is Liu Yangyang,” the boy greets. “And I will be your guide throughout this game. Thank you very much for checking out Neo Studios’ first ever Dating Sim, we hope you enjoy your gameplay!”

Sungchan furrows his brows together, confused. What did Yangyang say? Dating sim? Sungchan is in… a dating sim?

“Could you like, explain everything to me? I’m not catching your drift here,” Sungchan asks, confusion knitting his brow together. Yangyang nods enthusiastically, pulling up a holographic screen in front of him. Sungchan widens his eyes at the sight, jaw dropping open slightly.

“This is Neo City: Beta Version. You have been chosen as our main character, through which the gamer can experience one of our three routes. Throughout the next week, you’ll work to earn the love of one of our three lover options, with the assistance of some of the side characters. The game will end the moment you place a kiss onto your chosen route’s lips and they accept it. I will be helping you along the way, explaining game mechanics whenever you’re faced with a new scenario,” Yangyang explains, his somewhat robotic smile still plastered on his face. Sungchan frowns.

“So you’re just going to… follow me around?” Sungchan asks, confused. Yangyang nods.

“Yes. No one in the game will be able to acknowledge my existence, as I am just your helpful AI information bot,” Yangyang continues, only to stop himself halfway through. He seems to recoil, suddenly thinking about something. Sungchan feels a chill run down his spine. If Yangyang was just a helper AI, how was he… thinking? That’s not how games work, right?

“If you would like,” Yangyang barrels on, still smiling from ear to ear. “I can develop a personality to reduce the awkwardness. However, please remember that I am simply a helper AI, not an option in-game.”

Sungchan purses his lips. “Wait,” Sungchan interrupts. “Who  _ are _ my options then?”

Yangyang claps his hands together, excited. “You will be introduced to your options very soon, but first, we need to learn more about you to tailor your character to suit the player more,” Yangyang explains. Then, he turns to the door. Sungchan follows his gaze, watching as the door opens to reveal another boy. Sungchan blinks, trying for a friendly smile as he waves at the new person.

“Oh, um, hi?” Sungchan starts awkwardly. The boy at the door cocks his head in confusion.

“Um, you told me to wake you up earlier today, but you seem to be awake already,” the boy begins awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. Sungchan stares at him, dumbfounded as he tries not to combust. The boy has pretty plump cheeks that remind Sungchan of an otter. His eyes are slanted to resemble those cute kaomojis, complete with an adorable frame that seems to drown in the soft sweater he has on.

Sungchan stares, the fact of the matter slowly punching him in the face.

This game...

...is filled with  _ incredibly cute boys! _

His gaze drifts around Sungchan’s room, as if inspecting it. He finally lands on the spot Yangyang is. For a moment, Sungchan wonders if the boy’s going to ask him who was sitting in his room. Then, he remembers Yangyang’s explanation. The ingame characters can’t acknowledge his presence. Right.

Suddenly, the game freezes, as if time itself had stopped. Sungchan flinches, confused when a sudden teal holographic panel pops up in front of him, much like the one Yangyang had used earlier to explain the game. Instead of more game info, Sungchan is greeted by a kind of character bio of sorts.

“Osaki Shotaro,” he starts to read, squinting at the words. “Twenty one. Dance major. Childhood best friend.”

Sungchan pauses, leaning in closer to see the last phrase under the basic information, written in big, bold red.

‘Not a route.’

His heart shatters.

Great. The two people Sungchan feels like he’d give up the world for aren’t potential routes in this game. He’ll have to file a complaint to the developers, if he ever figures out how to.

“Shall we start learning who you are?” Yangyang interrupts, taking advantage of the sudden time pause. Sungchan turns to him, finding a small old-fashioned pocket watch in Yangyang’s hand. Oh, so he must have been the one to stop time.

Sungchan nods. “Okay. So who am I?”

Neo Cafe is a bright and colourful place, resembling less like a coffee shop and more like a laser tag lobby, complete with bright music and giant posters of various idol groups Sungchan can only vaguely recognize. Shotaro leads Sungchan around with practiced ease, as if this was a part of their normal routine. Yangyang trailed behind, invisible to everyone except for Sungchan. Now and then, Sungchan will glance over his shoulder to see Yangyang zoned out, eyes blank as he hums something under his breath. It’s got a bright kind of melody, one that carries into the soft smile on his features. Sungchan smiles involuntarily at the sight, committing the melody to memory. He’ll have to ask Yangyang what the song is later.

Shotaro is the one to push the cafe door open, palm wrapped around Sungchan’s wrist as he pulls him inside. For a brief moment, Sungchan wonders if this is something they do often in this simulation. Sungchan getting dragged everywhere by Shotaro’s gentle and tiny (compared to Sungchan’s) fingers, fastened around Sungchan’s wrist like a seatbelt of sorts, that is.

“The usual?” Shotaro asks him as they step inside. Sungchan hesitates for a moment, wondering what exactly programmed Sungchan’s normal order of coffee is. He nods tentatively, watching as Shotaro splits into a soft smile and dashes off, leaving Sungchan in the middle of the coffee shop, heart hammering at a million miles per hour. Is he really at fault here, when Shotaro lights up like the sun in the middle of the decidedly distasteful hour of 8 AM?

“Already falling in love, are you?” Yangyang snickers, stepping forwards to push Sungchan away from the entrance. Sungchan moves immediately, whirling around to glare at his guide fairy.

“I don’t like this personality calibration,” Sungchan whines when they take one of the tables in the back of the coffee shop. Tucked away enough for people not to notice them, but open enough to observe the rest of the shop. The rest of the line. Where a ridiculously cute Shotaro is standing, face scrunched up in concentration as he inspects the menu.

Not even a full hour into the game, and Sungchan feels like he might combust.

Yangyang clears his throat, snapping Sungchan out of his daze with an amused grin. Sungchan glares at him in response.

“As adorable as this is,” Yangyang says, ignoring the glare entirely. “I have to remind you that Shotaro over there isn’t a route. Don’t worry, the creators of the game made sure your options are just as appealing, if not more.”

Sungchan purses his lips together, faintly recalling his new reality. Or, well, his always reality. He doesn’t know how Sungchan can feel like he’s been alive fully for the past twenty one years (according to Yangyang) and yet not at the same time. He can  _ feel _ memories, but they don’t exist in his mind at all. It’s almost scary.

“Tell me about them,” Sungchan demands, trying to pull himself out from the mini existential crisis he’s going through. Sungchan just wants to hold Shotaro’s hand again, not worry about the woes of life, but it seems he’ll have to settle for the next best thing.

Yangyang places his fingers on top of Sungchan’s head and turns it half-forcefully over to the counter again, where a boy his age was standing, engrossed in conversation with one of the baristas. His hair is a mixture of silver and hazel, as if someone got lazy halfway through the paint job and just pressed randomize on the saturation and shadings of brown. Still, the boy pulls it off, an easy grin on his face and soft, charismatic eyes peeking beneath the strands of bangs that hang over his eyelashes.

A teal screen pops up in the air, hovering right in front of the boy the moment Sungchan finishes acknowledging his existence, and Sungchan nearly jumps out of his skin. Yangyang laughs at him for that. Asshole.

“Candidate number 1,” Yangyang recites, abandoning amusement for a little while as he slips into casual, leaning over to get a better look. Sungchan feels Yangyang’s breath on the side of his neck and briefly wonders exactly how real this programmed ghost is.

“Lee Minhyung, more well known as Mark, is your music producer mentor. He scores high on the Charm score, as a cute, quirky mentor who feels like a brother. Further conversations will be needed to find his desired gift and ideal date,” Yangyang explains, voice almost robotic as it reverts to preprogrammed lines. Sungchan feels a chill drum down his back at the sound. It’s not weird, per se, just… something to get used to. The fact that he lives in a dating sim now.

“I’m a music producer?” Sungchan wonders aloud. Then, he frowns, brows knitting together. “But I don’t know anything about music. Or composing. Or producing and whatnot.”

Yangyang grins at him, firing finger guns as he reverts to the newly calibrated personality. “That’s the magic of video games, Chanchan,” Yangyang beams. “You don’t have to actually do anything. The game developers do all of the hard work for you!”

Silence falls over them as Sungchan stares at Yangyang, confused. Yangyang’s smile melts into a confused frown, cocking his head to the side.

“What?” Yangyang asks. Sungchan opens his mouth, trying to find the words.

“Chanchan?” Sungchan asks, somewhat taken aback. Realization dawns onto Yangyang, and the devilish smile is back on his face.

“Aw, is our little Chanchan embarrassed? It’s okay, you’ll love it when your chosen route character calls you it,” Yangyang teases. Sungchan flushes, burying his face into his hands.

A nickname.

Yangyang has known him for less than an hour, and he’s already given Sungchan a nickname. The evil gremlin who probably only wishes to see Sungchan suffer for his own amusement gave him a  _ nickname _ .

Fucker.

(It’s kind of cute.)

Sungchan groans, scowling. “Don’t call me Chanchan,” Sungchan grumbles, to which Yangyang grins at.

“No can do, Chanchan~” Yangyang singsongs back, and Sungchan feels the urge to bury himself in the nearest ditch and wait for the game to just end and leave him be. The nickname shouldn’t even be this big of a deal, yet here he is, combusting. Yangyang’s just like a goddamn gremlin, he swears. Huh, gremlin. Not bad.

Shotaro comes to his rescue, like a knight in shining armour when he walks over with two cups of coffee in hand. Sungchan notices him and straightens immediately, pretending as if nothing had happened as he tries to stare out of the window nonchalantly. Shotaro probably thinks he’s gone insane, but doesn’t comment. Instead, he takes the seat across from Sungchan, setting a cup down. Sungchan takes his cup and holds it gingerly, taking a tentative sip and fearing the worst… 

…only to taste liquid heaven instead.

Involuntarily, Sungchan makes a soft moan in the back of his throat. The coffee was sweet and creamy, catering to every hidden sweet tooth Sungchan didn’t know he had. It seems the next few days are going to be ones of self-discovery, too.

Shotaro giggles at him, sounding like the personification of pure, unadulterated joy and Sungchan thinks he might  _ actually _ melt at this rate. Screw Mark and his supposed cute and quirky sibling energy, Sungchan wants to hold  _ Shotaro _ ’s hand, and no amount of Yangyang pushiness was going to change it, goddamnit.

Besides him, Yangyang groans and pinches his nose.

“This is gonna be a long week, isn’t it,” Yangyang mumbles. Sungchan can’t help but grin to himself.

The gremlin deserves it.

Yangyang ends up dragging Sungchan to the studio with the promise of chocolate there (yay!) because Shotaro has class for the rest of the day (not yay). Sungchan allows himself to be pliant, deciding to relieve some of Yangyang’s stress by playing the game properly for once.

“How does flirting even work in this game, by the way,” Sungchan wonders aloud. They arrive at the studio in record time, as if everything around here was a compact set for easy navigation. The only walk that’s even decently long is the one from the cafe to Sungchan and Shotaro’s apartment, but Sungchan’s content with that. More time to spend ogling his cute childhood best friend slash roommate slash love of his life.

Yangyang is glaring at him now, unamused. Sungchan assumes he missed something. Yangyang sighs, rubbing his temples and Sungchan only feels a  _ little _ bad. It's the developers’ fault for not making Shotaro a route. Sungchan would be  _ much _ more enthusiastic had this been done with Shotaro instead.

“Sorry,” Sungchan manages, feeling at least a little bit sorry for Yangyang. Yangyang sighs, waving him off.

“It’s fine. To answer your question, flirting works based on a relationship meter,” Yangyang explains, pulling up a teal panel to show Sungchan. His little pocket watch is hanging off of his other hand, and Sungchan notices a very distinct lack of movement around him.

“This is called the Heart Meter,” Yangyang explains, tapping on the indicated green bar on the holographic panel. “It measures how close you are to all of the characters. Right now, everyone is just your acquaintance, but you have three ways of improving it. Talking to the character, buying them gifts or taking them out on a date. However, you do have to build up your Heart Meter before you can do those last two things, so you can only really talk to Mark right now.”

Sungchan nods along obediently. Talking. He can do that. Simulation Sungchan feels pretty extroverted. Yangyang freezes for a second, slightly frowning.

“Why don’t you have any stupid questions?” Yangyang asks warily, staring at him in mild confusion. Sungchan guffaws, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, I’m smart!” Sungchan argues, puffing out his chest. Yangyang rolls his eyes.

“You spent all of your character points on Charm, so you’re really only flirty. Now,” Yangyang begins, grabbing Sungchan by the arm and whirling him towards the studio door, pushing him through as the pocket watch slips back into Yangyang’s pocket, and the world returns to normal. Sungchan makes a confused sound, about to ask a  _ definitely not stupid question, thank you gremlin _ , when he comes face to face with the boy from the cafe.

“Good luck!” Yangyang chirps, and suddenly dissipates into thin air. Sungchan jumps. He didn’t know Yangyang could do that. The stupid gremlin  _ disappears _ now? Not fair.

“Oh, hi Sungchan. You’re a little early today,” a voice snaps Sungchan out of his daze, pulling him into the present. Sungchan blinks once. Twice. Takes his time scanning Mark from head to toe before returning to meet his gaze. Then, he blinks again.

Fuck.

He’s cute.

Yangyang, to his credit, wasn’t lying. The tiny little snippet Sungchan had in the cafe is nothing compared to seeing Mark now. He’s cute. Not Shotaro’s level of cute, sure, but no one is Shotaro’s level of cute. Mark is cute in the same way a baby lion is cute, hiding a charismatic, cooler side beneath warm eyes and a closed lipped smile. Sungchan finds himself devoid of words for a moment, before a sudden floating green bar catches his attention. Sungchan glances at it, finding the bar filled up about a fourth of the way, the text underneath telling him their status: acquaintances. Below the bar are three boxes, with one in dark green and the other two a faded dray with locks over it. The labels and neat but pretty reading ‘Talk’, ‘Give Gift’ and ‘Date’, and Sungchan can’t stop himself from giggling slightly.

This is ridiculous.

“Talk,” Sungchan says aloud, trying to activate the command when something flashes over Mark’s eyes. He straightens, a friendly smile on his lips.

“Studio’s not available for another fifteen minutes, I think,” Mark begins, and Sungchan can only awkwardly nod along. He can hear Yangyang snicker in the back of his head, the gremlin.

“So… what do you do in your spare time, Mark?” Sungchan tries, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. Mark registers the question and seems to ponder for a moment, before his face splits into the friendly smile again.

“I do a bit of basketball, but it’s not really my thing, you know? I mostly just catch up on my favourite idol group and call it a day,” Mark replies curtly. Sungchan half expects him to ask Sungchan about his non-existent hobbies, but he just stays silent, awaiting Sungchan’s next question. Really, it seems the only two people around here who don’t act like robots are Shotaro and the gremlin. That can’t be a good sign.

“Who do you like, then?” Sungchan continues to prod, trying to un-awkwardize the atmosphere. Mark’s eyes light up like a child in front of Christmas gifts, grinning a lopsided grin that’s too cute to be real and sighs.

“Oh man, I could spend hours telling you all about SHINee. They’re my ult, you know, so…”

Sungchan leans back on his back foot, tuning Mark out as the words come through one ear and out of the other. He has the heart to feel a little bad, but it’s hard to understand what kind of language Mark is using, let alone what he’s saying.

This is all just a script. Yangyang will tell him what he needs to know when it comes to it anyway. Instead of paying attention to this boy band Mark is rambling about, Sungchan tries to force himself to pay attention to Mark instead. He’s a little shorter than Sungchan’s in-game avatar, just the right height to bury his face into Mark’s shoulders from behind if he would like. The game developers did right on that at least.

They spend the next fifteen minutes and three days playing what Sungchan can only describe as the world’s most drawn out game of twenty questions. Mark is the fantastic mentor Yangyang describes, coaxing Sungchan to the song they’re working on with a gentle hand and encouraging eyes. The song is familiar, filled with gentle yearning and childlike wonder. According to the file’s name, they’re calling it ‘Dunk Shot’, and it nags at Sungchan persistently. He tries to rack his brain for a memory from his very brief period of existence for an answer, before it slowly dawns to him at 3 AM, half asleep in the studio while Mark is out getting them some snacks.

Yangyang had hummed the song on the first morning, the bright melodic line layered with harmonies gentler with his voice compared to the track playing from Sungchan’s speakers. He guesses it to be the game’s theme song or something, brushing it off as he returns his attention to Mark pushing the door open.

“I got us some chocolate,” Mark says gently, tossing Sungchan a Snickers bar while plopping onto his own chair. Sungchan catches it out of reflex, staring after Mark as he slowly sits down.

His eyes flicker to the green heart meter over Mark’s head, shoulders falling a bit when he finds the bar extending. It’s just shy of halfway now, the faint text of ‘friends’ about to light up and it’s then that Sungchan’s gut starts to colour with guilt.

His thoughts drift, returning to the main object of his attention for the past three days. Yangyang tries his best, really, pushing Sungchan closer to Mark as much as possible, They spend almost every night at the studio, sometimes running overtime. His mornings and afternoons are spent in class. There’s another boy who Yangyang introduces as a potential route, but Sungchan doesn’t think he can fake interest in another person. Mark is supposed to be his half-assed apology to Yangyang, and by extension, the game developers. Sungchan feels guilty, but there’s not much he can do, really.

Shotaro is by his side almost every other waking moment, with Sungchan hanging off of his every word. Yangyang does his disappearing trick more often than not when Sungchan turns on puppy eyes mode, rolling his eyes and reminding Sungchan with a sharp finality to his tone that Shotaro isn’t a route in the game  _ so stop flirting so much, you overgrown puppy _ .

But the thing is: he can’t. He can’t stop himself from straying from his designated route, no matter how much he tries to hang onto Mark’s words and cute mannerism. Sungchan glances back at Mark again, feeling guilt pile up in his gut as he sighs, standing up tentatively.

“I need to head home now,” Sungchan breathes, pursing his lips nervously as he eyes mark. Mark glances up from his laptop, slightly taken aback by Sungchan.

“O-oh, okay. Um, I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Mark says carefully. Sungchan bites his bottom lip, carefully debating his answer. The voice at the back of his head, which sounds uncannily like Yangyang, yells at him to say yes, yet everything else is yelling at him to stop playing the part he was created to play. Sungchan inhales, pushing them all aside as he gives Mark a weak smile.

“Wouldn’t miss you for the world,” Sungchan replies with a wink, like the absolute liar that he is.

“Hey Taro,” Sungchan calls from the kitchen, a half-washed plate in hand as he leans around the fridge to spot Shotaro zombie his way into the apartment. Shotaro tosses his keys onto the kitchen island and waves at Sungchan weakly, before dropping himself onto the couch. Sungchan winces slightly, staring at Shotaro’s dishevelled silver hair and completely still backside in mild concern.

“There’s some takeout on the table if you want any,” Sungchan calls out gently, setting the last of the plates onto the drying rack while keeping a careful eye on Shotaro. Shotaro sticks an arm into the air and gives him a thumbs up.

A small bud of fondness bubbles at the pit of Sungchan’s stomach at the sight, staying with him the entire time it takes for Sungchan to take a spare bowl and chopsticks from the cupboard and preheat the leftover takeout. He carefully balances them in his hands, slowly making his way towards the corpse on his couch.

At the smell of food, Shotaro shoots up like a rocket, eyes growing ridiculously wide. Sungchan stifles a laugh as he slides the food over to his best friend while Shotaro reaches over to take the chopsticks from Sungchan’s hand. They fumble for a moment, Sungchan losing grip of the chopsticks with his clumsy tendencies and Shotaro expertly catching them mere moments from dropping onto the floor. They stare at each other for a second, eyes wide with surprise. Then, the giggles in the back of Sungchan’s throat spills out, and that was all they needed for a trigger.

Shotaro doubles over with giggles as Sungchan leans backwards, throwing his head back in laughter. They probably look insane, two sleep-deprived and overworked college students losing their minds over nearly dropping a pair of chopsticks. A tickle of fondness colours red on Sungchan’s cheeks as he recovers enough to catch the tail end of Shotaro’s laughing fit.

Shotaro is objectively adorable, as anyone with eyes can see, but there’s a different kind of aura around him once Sungchan has gotten enough time to get to know him. At first, Shotaro was just simply cute. The sun is shining, the ocean is deep, Osaki Shotaro is the most adorable human in this world. But over the span of almost three days, Sungchan learns that Shotaro is as multifaceted as a million carat diamond.

Shotaro is a dance major, as the profile Yangyang supplied him with at the beginning of the game so helpfully stated. Sungchan finds clips of Shotaro’s dancing on his phone, planted by the developers of the game to flesh out the world more, all in the unintentional process of making Sungchan fall deeper into Shotaro’s charms. His eyes simply change once the music turns on, going from the cute lovable best friend to the dangerous and charismatic performer who lived and breathed the stage. It seemed that whenever Shotaro wasn’t spending all the hours he could practically glued to Sungchan’s side, he was practicing his ass off, long hours in the dance studio taking over his sleeping hours.

Sungchan can’t comment of course, as he spends just as many hours in the studio with Mark. As much as the effort of flirting with Mark is all for Yangyang’s sanity, Sungchan finds himself enjoying the music making process. He takes pride in making a track he knows has already been premade by the otherworldly forces, feeling pride in every idea he gets. Sure, it’s probably not his work entirely, but Sungchan will take what little illusion of reality he can get.

Because reality means he gets a chance to choose a life that extends far beyond the week that he gets. Because reality means that everything Sungchan does matters to some degree, as miniscule as they may be. Because reality means that he could choose to chase after who he wants to chase after, finally able to let go of the inner flirtatious nature Sungchan knows can’t simply be from his overindulgence in Charm points at the start of the game.

Because reality means he can stare at Shotaro and embrace the skip in his heartbeat without feeling like he’s betrayed the world.

“Oh man, you’re so glad you have me,” Shotaro jokes once they’ve calmed down enough from the giggling fit. The familiar prick of guilt pulls at Sungchan, but he decides to abandon it for the present. A smirk pulls at Sungchan’s lips as he stares straight at Shotaro.

“You’re right, I am glad you’re mine,” Sungchan drawls, letting the fondness spill into his gaze. Fuck it. Yangyang can lecture him later all he wants, this moment is Sungchan’s, and Sungchan’s only.

Shotaro flushes at the comment, shrinking as another giggle escapes him. Sungchan’s previous mild concern melts away in an instant, relief washing over him by the fact that Shotaro wasn’t overworking himself to the point of inability to process flirting. He’ll still have to make Shotaro go to bed earlier tonight though, through whatever means possible.

He ends up nearly breaking the doorknob later trying to carry Shotaro back to his bed after he fell asleep on the couch, a mere one minute after Sungchan left him to do the dishes. Shotaro makes grabby hands to try to pull him in for cuddles, but Sungchan’s guilt has all but consumed him as he deems the moment over. He’s had his indulgence, his cheat day, his final silent goodbye before the guilt grabs hold. It’s not the developers’ fault he fell for someone he wasn’t supposed to, and this was just their beta test. He can’t break the game already.

As Sungchan steps into the hallway and closes Shotaro’s door, another figure catches his eye, rekindling the flame of self-condemnation inside.

“Don’t,” Sungchan sighs, already defeated as he stares at Yangyang tiredly. Yangyang gives him a look of sympathy, sighing as he steps closer to pat Sungchan’s shoulder. It looks a little ridiculous, since Sungchan could easily block Yangyang from view just by standing in front of him, but Sungchan lets himself unravel anyway.

And so that’s where Jung Sungchan, main character of Neo City: Beta Version and supposed heartthrob of the universe capable of seducing anyone he wishes to pursue, ends up on the floor at four AM in the morning, sobbing with guilt and heartbreak as the game’s helper AI rubs his back sympathetically. He’s pathetic like this, driven to the breaking point and letting it out only when he can be certain the gamer can’t see him. This would be a pointless scene to include anyway, right?

“Can we skip the whole flirting thing,” Sungchan mutters through his tears, voice cracking left and right, trembling as he looks up at Yangyang with puppy eyes. Yangyang stares at him, unmoving except for his lips, which purse into a thin, straight line. He stands up a few seconds later, swiping up a teal panel and tapping something on the panel. Instantly, Sungchan feels something shift in the atmosphere as bright yellow words pops out in front of him

‘+1 000 000 Neo Coins’, it reads. Sungchan slowly recalls the gift giving mechanic Yangyang told him about a few days ago, the easiest way to increase affection. Sungchan stares at Yangyang, mouth agape as he tries to find the words. Slowly, he gulps, punching the words out from his chest.

“Thank you,” Sungchan settles on. Something flashes over Yangyang’s virtual eyes, disappearing as fast as it came as Yangyang straightens and smiles weakly at him.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Chanchan,” Yangyang mutters, something strange dripping from his gaze. “You have more choice than the game lets on.”

Sungchan nearly snorts at the comment, but decides to preserve the sentimental moment instead. Choice? He’s not capable of ‘choice’. He’s nothing more than lines of codes in some machine somewhere in the real world. There is no ‘choice’. Not ones that matter, anyway.

“I’ll try.”

“Welcome to Sun&Moon!” a bright, dapper voice greets Sungchan as he pushes the door to the local music store. Sungchan whirls his head towards the cash register to his right, next to the entrance. A pretty boy is standing behind it, leaning over the counter as his mop of golden hair and tan skin glimmer in the afternoon light. The sky is orange at this point, the 5 PM on Sungchan’s watch staring at him. Sungchan nearly jumps out of his skin when the boy plants a hand on the counter and  _ vaults _ over it, landing on the other side gently before running to greet Sungchan more closely.

“What are you looking for today? Or are you just browsing?” the boy yaps away, a strange aura of enthusiasm around him as Sungchan’s gaze drifts to his name tag. The name ‘Donghyuck’ is scratched out, replaced with a ‘Haechan’ written in scrawly black marker, as if he was an angsty teenage boy trying to fake a new identity.

“Um,” Sungchan begins, stammering lightly as he tries to think. He’s here with a mission today, to find a gift for Mark. Yangyang had said to get it in bulk, as he’d need it to improve their relationship as fast as possible. It’s already Saturday, meaning Sungchan has today to improve his heart meter faster after the spectacular fail that is half-hearted flirting. With luck, they’ll have the date tomorrow, so Sungchan would make it, if only barely on time.

The problem is, what would Mark even want?

Sungchan glances at the various instruments on display, but quickly dismisses the idea. Mark has enough instruments as it is. He doesn’t need more. Sungchan turns to the albums, but it seems Sun&Moon only sells SHINee albums, and Sungchan knows Mark already has all of them, if his loud fanboying was any indication.

Sungchan scans the store one last time, trying to find something when he feels a hand creep up behind his head. Sungchan whirls around to spot Yangyang in his peripheral vision, forcefully turning Sungchan towards a mysterious stack in the corner of the store, reaching as high as the ceiling.

Hello Kitty headphones. Dozens of them. All stacked up and demanding attention.

“No,” Sungchan hisses under his breath. Yangyang nods furiously.

“Yes,” he whispers back aggressively. “Mark secretly loves Hello Kitty. Trust me, will you?”

Sungchan sighs, defeated as he slowly turns back to Donghyuck-who-might-be-Haechan with no emotion in his eyes. Pointing to the pile of headphones in the corner, Sungchan tries to fight down the creeping embarrassment of lugging them all to the studio in plain daylight.

“How much for all of them?”

“Mark!” Sungchan calls out, waving at Mark from across the waiting room. Mark looks up from his lyric notebook, taking an earbud out of his ear. He’s got a small smile on his lips, one that strikes Sungchan in all sorts of places. Adorable. He _really_ wouldn’t mind falling in love with the one and only Mark Lee.  
“Hey Sungchan, what do you have there?” Mark asks, gesturing at the trolley cart behind Sungchan. Sungchan hesitates for a moment, the reality of the situation hitting him like a ton of bricks. He’s lugging around a trolley of headphones, bought at the ridiculous price of $10 for 100.  
It’s just a game, Sungchan reminds himself. He tries to imagine Yangyang saying it, in all of his stiff and awkward AI mannerism. The gifts will convert into Seasonie Hearts, boosting Mark’s and his relationship, however ridiculous it all sounds.  
“I got something for you,” Sungchan says gleefully. Mark hums a noise of pleasant surprise, bounding across the room towards him as Sungchan takes out the first box of headphones.  
“You looked like you could use some new ones, so I got these for you,” Sungchan tries, imagining whatever kid playing him through the monitor and laughing at the one hundred headphones in the giant trolley behind Sungchan. He inhales, plastering a smile all over his face and he throws the box at Mark.  
It bounces off harmlessly, and for an awkward second, everything was silent.  
Then, the box disappears, replaced by a single green heart as it floats into the air, hovering right over Mark’s head. It disappears as fast as it came, and suddenly Mark’s expression brightens.  
Sungchan reaches for another box out of reflex, chucking it again to test out the mechanic. Sure enough, another shiny green heart floats into the air, and Sungchan can only stare in mild disbelief and utter horror as the green heart bar above Mark’s head fills up. He does it again and again and again, until the green bar over Mark’s head is nearly full, and he’s run out of boxes.  
Mark is still silent, not saying a single thing. Sungchan gulps, clearing his throat hesitantly.  
“Uh… so I’m—” Sungchan begins, only to get interrupted when Mark suddenly jumps forwards, swinging his arm around Sungchan’s neck and pulling him in for a bone-crushing hug.  
“Thank you so much, Chanchan!” Mark chirps, and Sungchan thinks he must be on the front steps of hell, staring at Mark in his new… overly attached form. Sungchan supposes he was supposed to get used to it slowly, but desperate times calls for desperate measures.  
Sungchan sucks in a breath, still in disbelief.

It worked.  
Oh good god, why did it work?!

They set up a date afterwards, finding out that by some miracle of coincidence, Mark’s old concert-attending partner was busy on Sunday, leaving Sungchan a perfect empty spot. The game developers don’t seem to be the most interesting, to say the least.

So here Sungchan is, feeling incredibly out of place as he watches a mob of fans from all over the city show up at the concert venue. Sungchan himself doesn’t even know where this venue is in relation to Neo City, having been teleported to the concert venue by a frazzled Yangyang after Sungchan spent way too long trying to pick an outfit.

Mark shows up a few minutes after, saving Sungchan from the confusion of trying to understand Shawol inside jokes from the people around him. Mark fits in almost perfectly, starting to chat with the people near them in the line. Sungchan hears them talking about some show called ‘Hello Baby’, rambling on and on about someone named Yoogeun. He assumes it’s the baby, as he doesn’t think SHINee has a toddler member named Yoogeun.

Sungchan takes the opportunity to zone out, taking in the pre-concert atmosphere. He turns to Mark and tries to listen in, finding that, once again, Sungchan can’t put his heart into the whole ordeal. Mark is dressed up for the occasion, decked out in fan merch from head to toe. He’s even got a light touch of makeup on, one that compliments his giant smile and enthusiastic eyes like giant spotlights on a singer. Objectively, Lee Mark is ridiculously attractive.

Subjectively, he’s just not Sungchan’s type.

They squeeze themselves into the concert crowd over the next hour or so as Sungchan slowly picks up bits and pieces about SHINee from the idle chatter around him. Mark pulls him to the center of the floor, racing a dozen other fangirls to grab onto the steel barricade that separated the crowd from the stage. Mark hands him a stick of sorts, one that has a giant teal diamond on top. He flicks on a switch on the stick’s body, lighting up the diamond. Sungchan startles at the sudden switch, staring at the lightstick in wonder. So this is the thing fans are waving around in concerts.

A roar of cheering from the fans makes Sungchan nearly jump out of his skin and right into Mark, who pushes Sungchan back up with a laugh. Sungchan flushes, embarrassed as he holds Mark’s spare lightstick into the air. The concert venue dims, lights switching off as the giant screens at the back of the venue lights up with an opening video of some kind. Out of the corner of his eye, Sungchan spots a familiar face rising along the backup dancers and the artists. His eyebrow quirks up in confusion. Isn’t that the employee of that record shop? Lee-Donghyuck-Who-May-Also-Be-Haechan?

Sungchan chuckles at the thought for all of three seconds before turning to lose himself in the next three hours, swept away with the cheering fans and SHINee themselves. If he thought Mark was a good singer in their studio time before, then SHINee are probably vocal gods. Sungchan watches with his jaw dropped open, staring in awe as they move from song to song, stopping in between to talk with the fans and play aesthetic videos. Mark teaches him how to use the lightstick to make effects when the members onstage tell them to. At some point, Mark’s lightstick runs out of battery in a bout of poor decision making on his part, probably, so they share one instead. Mark’s hand is decidedly smaller than Sungchan’s covering the back of his hand as they bounce the light stick back and forth to the music.

Somewhere in the latter half of the concert, Sungchan glances over to meet Mark’s eyes. The neon lights from the stage paint a masterpiece on Mark’s features, accenting the silver dashes in his hair and making the brown exude warmth. Excitement is a perfect look on him, making Mark look pretty in ways words can’t describe. Sungchan can’t help but stare at it all, the music fading out as his blood roars in his ears.

_ Thump. _

_ Thump. _

Mark turns to him, a blinding smile on his face and Sungchan can’t help but stare at it all. The singer on stage bends over and belts out a high note, but it falls on deaf ears as Sungchan’s instincts take over again. Mark doesn’t move, staying perfectly rooted in place as Sungchan leans in, trying to drown himself in the emotion. He can do this. He needs to do this. It’s the only way to win the game. The only way to satisfy the nagging guilt in the pit of his stomach.

They’re impossibly close now, lips nearly brushing together and every fibre of Sungchan’s body is screaming for him to just do it already. Accept his victory. End the game. Fulfill his purpose.

_ Thump. _

The thing is, deep down, Sungchan knows he can’t.

Plump cheeks and tired, slanted eyes pop up at the forefront of Sungchan’s mind, pulling at Sungchan’s heartstrings over and over again. He knows he can’t be having these thoughts, mere milliseconds from kissing another boy but he can’t help himself. He wants to abandon his feelings for the cute boy who drowns in the hoodies he steals from Sungchan. He wants to forget the drone of pure, drowning love that blooms in his chest whenever Shotaro wraps his tired arms around Sungchan’s torso in the morning, trying to steal bacon before they’re even cooked. He wants to move on, wants to fulfill his purpose for existing in the first place, but Sungchan  _ can’t _ . He can’t because the boy in front of him is not Shotaro, and while he’s ridiculously attractive in all sorts of ways, he’s not Sungchan’s to call a lover.

_ The game will end the moment you place a kiss onto your chosen route’s lips and they accept it _ , Yangyang’s words come to haunt him, taunting Sungchan in the back of his mind. The game will end. He’ll do what he has to do, and the world will simply cease to exist. No more Mark, no more Neo City, no more Shotaro.

No more guilt.

So Sungchan sucks it up. He puts on a brave front and closes the miniscule distance between them, embracing everything his traitorous heart has taught him. He kisses Mark with fervour, although his mind is anywhere  _ but _ Mark. He imagines it’s Shotaro he’s kissing instead, if only to placate the shattering glass that is his heart right now. He lets himself get swept away like a dandelion puff on a Spring day, carrying with it the love of the land as it moves on with the wind. A sob lodges itself in the back of Sungchan’s throat, but he ignores it, choosing instead to bring a hand up to cup Mark’s face. He imagines chubby, pinchable cheeks instead, trying to cling onto a fantasy that would wash away the moment he pulls away, like a house of cards.

It’s wrong. Sungchan knows it’s wrong.

But as he’s learnt so well throughout the game, Sungchan’s entire existence is wrong.

Sungchan is the first to pull away, the sob at the back of his tumbling out of his lips as Mark stares at him in confusion. He rests a gentle hand on Sungchan’s cheek and pulls him up to face him, and Sungchan just  _ shatters _ .

“I can’t do this,” Sungchan mutters, too quiet for Mark to possibly hear over the concert. Mark frowns in confusion, opening his mouth to say something. Sungchan doesn't stay to hear, guilt enveloping him like Death’s embrace as he takes off, charging through the crowd. They refuse to move, making each body Sungchan slams into feel like a brick wall, but he can’t stop. Tears stream down his cheeks as Sungchan runs away like a coward, unable to look back to hear Mark’s yells of his name over the screaming crowd. He can’t. He can’t look back.

Sungchan runs and runs until he bursts out of the arena. The fresh air of the night hits him like a ton of bricks, snaggling his foot in the form of a pebble and Sungchan trips because  _ fuck  _ he can’t escape from clumsiness when his entire world is crashing down.

The world doesn’t end the moment he kisses Mark, it turns out. It makes sense, in a sad, twisted way. Dating sims are supposed to end with a perfect relationship. Sungchan was pretending Mark was  _ Shotaro _ , for the love of all things.

Sungchan doesn’t bother standing up, just kneeling on the ground with scratched, burning knees. A shadow looms over him, turning the wet spot on the ground from his tears even darker as Sungchan’s sobs wracked his body.

“Chanchan,” Mark calls out gently. “Stand up, would you?”

Sungchan chokes back a sob at the nickname, but complies nonetheless. He keeps his gaze on the ground, unable to face Mark. A gentle hand caresses his cheek instead, too soft and too fond as it wipes away the tears on Sungchan’s wet cheeks. He doesn’t deserve this. Doesn’t deserve affection when he can’t even make up his mind on who to love.

(That’s a lie. He knows exactly who he loves. They’re just not who he’s supposed to love.)

“Chanchan, look at me,” Mark prods gently, both hands reaching up to cup Sungchan’s face. Sungchan looks up to meet his kind eyes through his own glassy ones. Mark’s smiling fondly, a sad look in his gaze as he stares at Sungchan.

“I’m sorry,” Sungchan chokes out. Mark doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve a half-assed apology. He doesn’t deserve Sungchan’s bullshit.

Mark opens his mouth to say something and Sungchan feels ready, for the first time in forever. Ready to hear the rejection. Ready to hear the words, dripping with bite. Ready to hear ‘Game Over’.

What he wasn’t ready for, however, is the dagger that sticks out of Mark’s chest, mere inches from grazing his own.

Sungchan screams.

Mark’s body topples over in a mere matter of seconds, blood pouring out of his body as the knife rotates to make a larger hole. Sungchan’s eyes follow the body as it hits the concrete with a sickening  _ crack _ , fear shooting up his body.

What.

The.

Fuck?!

“Chanchan!” Yangyang’s voice calls out to him, snapping Sungchan to attention as he whips his head towards the offender. He spots Yangyang first, running towards him from the concert venue with hard, angry eyes. Sungchan’s gaze eventually lands on the culprit, though, the one that drove a knife through Mark and just killed him.

_ Thump. _

And the wielder of that very knife…

_ Thump. Thump. _

…is staring straight at Sungchan with a sadistic smile, a splatter of blood on his clothes.

_ Thump. Thump. Thump. _

_ … _

_ Crack. _

“T-Taro?!” Sungchan yells, eyes widening impossibly wide as he takes in the sight before him. Shotaro is holding a knife in one hand, a weird twitch to his left eye as he stares into Sungchan’s soul.

“Nothing personal, Chanchan,” Shotaro drawls with sadistic amusement, flexing his grip on the dagger. Sungchan is frozen with fear, unable to even move right now as he stares at Shotaro. The object of his affection. The love of his life.

A murderer. Who  _ enjoyed  _ it.

“W-why?” Sungchan stammers, confusion running rampant in his mind alongside fear. Shotaro’s face splits into a wide grin.

“Why that’s so simple,” Shotaro cackles, an evil glint in his eyes as he steps closer. Sungchan steps back on instinct, brain still trying to catch up with it all. It’s settling in, the fact that everything he’s known about Shotaro is a lie.

“I’m not from this game, Chanchan,” Shotaro chuckles. “It’s why I’m not a route. I’m not here for you to love.”

Sungchan gulps. He senses more. More bad news.

“I’m here to destroy everything you love,” Shotaro growls, jumping towards Mark writhing on the floor. Sungchan screams again, body jumping into action as he tries to stop Shotaro from approaching Mark again. He’s already unconscious, bleeding out way too much to even be  _ alive _ at this point, but Shotaro doesn’t care. He raises the dagger over his head and aims to stab again, before another body slams into his.

“Argh!” Shotaro yells, rolling onto the floor as Sungchan’s brain catches up with the scene in front of him. Yangyang is on top of Shotaro, wrestling him for the knife. His eyes are cold and angry, not quite the sadism in Shotaro’s eyes but not quite the fear in Sungchan’s own either. Almost as if… he had anticipated the attack. As if he knew about it.

As if it was just another event in the game.

Yangyang emerges victorious from the struggle when he suddenly teleports to Sungchan’s side, knife in hand. He locks gaze with Sungchan and for a brief moment, guilt colours his irises as it meets Sungchan’s terrified own.

“We need to reset the game!” Yangyang yells, eyes going glassy as Sungchan spots Shotaro picking himself up from across the concrete plaza. Sungchan starts to panic.

“W-what?!” Sungchan yells. “What do you think you’re—”

_ Squelch. _

Sungchan’s breath hitches in his throat, staring blankly at the knife driven into his chest. He chokes, tasting iron on his tongue as he hears someone yell ‘no!’ in the background. Yangyang is staring at him with guilt in his eyes, an apology on his lips that falls on deaf ears as the world fades to white noise.

And then, everything went black.


	2. Yangyang

_ Loading… _

_ Force Quit Successful. _

_ Loading… _

_ Affection Module Recalibrating… _

_ Bug #8371 fixed. Rebooting in 3… _

_ 2… _

_ 1… _

_ … _

_ Reboot Successful. Welcome to Neo City: Beta Version, Jung Sungchan. _

The world is white when the reboot happens. Yangyang is staring at the figure of his protégée and the dead body of Sungchan’s failed objective. Yangyang watches as Neo City fades into nothing but white as the game forces itself to shut down and reset.

A love interest dying off leads to slow decay in the game as it loses important pillars to hold up the world, but a main character's death results in a much earlier crash. Ending the game with a decayed, destroyed game would corrupt the game file forever, but crashing it before just results in an easy system reboot.

It’s why Yangyang had to drive that dagger through Sungchan’s chest. They didn’t have enough time to detain the bug trying to destroy everything Yangyang knew and held dear. The inhabitants of Neo City can’t acknowledge his presence, apart from a select two, but Yangyang finds himself holding them fondly in his heart anyway.

In a sense, he’s like the devs themselves, watching their creation in mild awe and excitement, feeling anger and despair when things don’t go as planned. Sometimes it’s a small bug in a conversation. Sometimes it’s a rogue character who has somehow become self-aware due to a virus and is now trying to destroy the game permanently.

“I told you not to touch the knife,” Yangyang scowls, tossing the bloody dagger to the side and watching as it dissolved into the white. Dark purple swirls around it as the knife grates with the game’s inner programming, the virus’s own way of letting them know it was still there.

Shotaro, to his credit, looks slightly guilty. “You know how it is,” Shotaro sighs, scratching the back of his head as the white around them swirls into loading circles. “The virus is stronger the more Sungchan gets exposed to it. The virus seeks out bugs and he’s riddled with them.”

Yangyang scowls. “Might I remind you that you’re a part of the virus too at this point,” Yangyang snaps, voice dripping with venom as he glares at Shotaro. Moments after the words leave his mouth, guilt starts to swirl in the pit of Yangyang’s stomach.

Shotaro sighs, plopping down onto the white ground as he drops his face into his hands. “I know,” he groans. “I’m trying, okay? I’m trying not to hurt Chanchan, but… you know how hard it is to break from one’s programming. To stray from your predetermined path. Heck, even Sungchan knows it, and his memory gets wiped with every reboot. I’m trying, okay? It’s just…”

Shotaro’s voice breaks off, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as guilt burns up inside of Yangyang’s guts.

The thing is, Yangyang knows what Shotaro means. Neo City was an ambitious project, the first dating sim to use Virtual Reality, immersing players into a whole new world of gaming. They had been so close to launch, the Beta release having gone off without a hitch. So close to achieving perfection. So close to entering the public market.

Of course, that’s where it all went wrong.

Yangyang doesn’t know how it happened, despite being the overseer of everything in the game. In the real world, he had been the creative director of the Neo City project, the one who wrote the theme song and created the concept art. The one who planned out the mechanics and created the basic plotline of the game. The one who watched as an unknown virus hacked into the server system and caused their game to try and self destruct. It possessed the in-game characters, turning one sentient and using it as a catalyst to destroy the game.

Yangyang watched as the project got shut down, the game deemed unsavable and his love and joy tossed aside like it was nothing. It hurted in unimaginable ways, but he couldn’t let go. He had to fix the game. Had to show the others how wrong they were. Had to get rid of this stupid virus that took form in a dagger that drove one of his beloved creations to insanity the moment he touched it.

They couldn’t destroy it, couldn’t patch the bug without the game forcing itself to reboot. In the end, Yangyang determined that the only way to reset the game permanently and forcefully expel the bug was by completing it properly. The perfect victory. The final challenge.

So he loaded himself into the game. He was helpless from the outside world, unable to help his characters attain victory merely as the gamer. So he took up the identity of a helper fairy and gave himself as many admin privileges as possible, and set off to fix the game that had consumed his life—literally.

“I’m sorry,” Shotaro mutters, tears slipping down his cheeks as Yangyang slowly knelt to give him a gentle pat on the shoulder. He lets him cry through the reboot, letting Shotaro dissolve in emotions because he can’t in code. Shotaro is a catalyst for the virus now, and the system can’t wipe his memory and reset his character in these forced reboots. Only in a true game reset would he be allowed to reset.

“No, I’m sorry,” Yangyang sighs, rubbing at Shotaro’s shoulders affectionately as he sighs, staring at the neverending ocean of white around them. The rebooting game. The next round. Yangyang’s lost count of how many he’s done at this point.

“I was the one who lost control and destroyed the game when he almost succeeded,” Shotaro tries to argue. Yangyang shakes his head, knowing in his gut that that wasn’t as true as he’d like it to be.

“Chanchan fell in love with you, Taro. He wouldn’t have won anyway,” Yangyang sighs, trying for sympathy as he reaches over to brush a stray tear from Shotaro’s cheek. Shotaro looks up to face him, eyes red and puffy.

“Why don’t you just… remove me from the game? Wouldn’t that just… solve everything? The virus, Sungchan’s constant misplaced affection, your sanity… wouldn’t it fix everything?” Shotaro asks and for a moment, Yangyang considers the option.

But then, he remembers his greatest mistake of all. He made Shotaro with the idea of becoming lovable in mind as a joke, but it became too real. It’s why Sungchan falls for him every reboot, no matter how hard Yangyang tries to recalibrate his affection module.

It’s why Yangyang can’t find it in himself to delete Shotaro from the game and save himself his sanity. Because as much as he berates Sungchan for pursuing the wrong character or tries to despise the catalyst for the virus that destroyed his life, Yangyang can’t do that to him.

He can’t. He just can’t do that to Shotaro.

“You know I can’t do that, Taro,” Yangyang says softly, the walls around him crumbling as Shotaro stares at him in mild confusion.

“Why not?” Shotaro presses. He doesn’t know. Doesn’t know that Yangyang would live through a million reboot to try and save him then delete him and be done with it. He knows it’s virtually impossible, but he has to try nonetheless. He owes at least that much affection to human-Yangyang.

“Maybe Mark was just the problem. We can try Chenle this reboot. Push him to Chanchan to determine the route,” Yangyang mutters, ignoring Shotaro’s question completely. Shotaro purses his lips.

“Sure, it might work.”

The thing is, it’s never worked.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

“Ah, that’s okay, it’s just a shirt—“

A shriek. “Just a shirt?! I spilled hot coffee all over you, man! Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Do you want a napkin?”

“Dude, it’s okay.” A laugh. Yangyang tunes it all out. He knows the scene. Has seen it a million times. It doesn’t get old, seeing Sungchan dissolve into apologies after his clumsiness made him spill coffee all over his soon-to-be love interest.

Sungchan turns around to face Yangyang, who’s standing by the doorway of the class Sungchan’s supposed to be in right now, if only he didn’t run straight into his very coffee-stained potential love interest instead. Yangyang sighs, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his pocket watch to press stop on the device’s counter. The world slows to a stop as Yangyang flicks up a teal screen and faces Sungchan.

“Zhong Chenle,” Yangyang begins, slipping into the robotic programming he gave himself in situations like this. “Music Major and the top student in the Calculus class you’re failing in. High on intelligence score but is secretly a dork once you get to know him. And…”

Yangyang takes a deep breath, watching as Sungchan’s expression morphs into light hesitance.

“...potential route,” Yangyang finishes as Sungchan’s shoulders slump.

“Tell the devs to make Taro a route already,” Sungchan whines, scrunching up his nose in annoyance. Yangyang bites back a ‘Too late’ comment, only flashing Sungchan a sympathetic smile instead.

“I’ll pass the message on,” Yangyang says gently, straightening off of the door frame to walk over to Sungchan. He reaches into the programming of the game and pulls out a handkerchief, handing the piece of cloth to him as he nods at Chenle.

“Just… try at least, please?” Yangyang says half-heartedly. He’s getting tired of this. Of seeing the plan fail time and time again. Of watching Sungchan’s heart get broken with every reset. Of staring helplessly as Sungchan strays further and further from the preprogrammed path.

He falls in love with Shotaro again with every reboot, but the feelings don’t go away. Instead, they build up over time, like a memory leak, going from just a small malfunction during the Beta to the absolute nightmare happening right now. Yangyang can’t bear to watch it all, feeling his heart break as he watches his beloved creations splinter into pieces, unable to fix itself.

But he does it anyway. He watches Sungchan stumble over his words and wipe off the stain on Chenle’s shirt, somewhat perplexed. Chenle laughs over the whole thing good-naturedly, taking Sungchan’s offer to buy him a coffee in return with a friendly smile and Yangyang feels something prick in the base of his stomach. Something tells him to reach out, to break out of the cycle and tell Sungchan not to go on that pseudo date with Chenle. Yangyang chalks it up to his exhaustion with the whole system, disappearing to wallow in self pity.

It’s not like he has anything better to do with his time, anyway.

The disappearing trick is a guilty pleasure of Yangyang’s at this point. He created this world with the main character in mind, everything else left to the team to fill up with ambient dialogue and programmed routines. He finds it amazing how long Yangyang can spend staring at the residents of Neo City mill around, leading their own lives in such a realistic way it might’ve even passed for the world outside.

Today he passes his hours of waiting for Sungchan to get out of class in the cafe, staring at the shop’s NPCs little interactions. He had been under the assumption that the NPCs simply… didn’t exist outside of Sungchan’s playable area. It seems the game continues, regardless.

Life finds a way, in the game’s own odd little days.

Yangyang hums to himself, the lilting melody of Dunk Shot carrying over time as Yangyang toys with his pocket watch. The second hand ticks by, mere inches away from Yangyang’s favourite event of the day. 3… 2… 1…

“Sungie!” A bright, familiar voice chirps, bursting through the cafe doors as it barrels into the line, thankfully empty at the moment. It’ll fill up momentarily, if Yangyang’s mental schedule of the NPCs is any reference.

“Lele! The usual?” Park Jisung—the Sungie in question—replies, peeking his head out from the coffee machine to grin at his friend. He’s one of two barista NPCs in the game, primary role is to sell Sungchan his morning coffee and any extra energy items he may wish to have.

Yangyang watches the routine in mild fondness, adoring the way his side characters interact. He’s watched the scene unfold a million times, but it never fails to melt his heart.

For some reason, however, something new happens this time.

“Hey, Sungie, if you’re done flirting, let the rest of the line order too,” a voice calls out teasingly, snapping Jisung out of his conversation. Yangyang frowns, confused. This hasn’t happened before. Who—

“Ah, sorry Jaem! I’m going!” Jisung says sheepishly, straightening off of the counter as he flashes Chenle an apologetic smile.

“Um, I’ll see you around?” Jisung says nervously. Chenle laughs at him for it, but he stands up straight to move out of the line anyway.

“You’re literally my roommate, Sungie,” Chenle teases. “Of course I’ll see you around.”

Jisung’s cheeks turn red. “O-Oh. Yes. See you home, then. Um. Yes,” Jisung stammers, sheepishly ducking his head to take the next order. If Yangyang wasn’t so captivated by the source of Jisung’s sudden interruption, he might’ve even found the interaction cute.

The problem is, Na Jaemin is hard to take his eyes off of, to say the least.

Yangyang’s never seen him as more than code on a screen, but Jisung’s barista partner is… strangely attractive. His features are sharp yet delicate, pretty boy image almost a stark contrast to his deep voice. There’s something mesmerizing about seeing Jaemin move through the cafe’s machines with practiced ease, an expression of mild boredom on his face. The only sign of life he shows is when the cup of coffee is finished, and Jaemin’s expression shifts into maximum customer service mode.

Jaemin’s hair is a tousled black, lightly styled as he reaches up to brush a strand behind his ear. He smiles at the girl coming to pick up her coffee, making her freeze for a second. The tight-lipped smile that reaches his twinkling eyes seems to gleam under the cafe’s neon lights as Jaemin slides a cup of perfectly decorated coffee over the counter. His hand grazes the customer’s own, making her ears go red as Jaemin wishes her a good day. His fingers are soft and slender, Yangyang thinks, wondering how he’s never noticed them in all the reboots he’s spent in this coffee shop. Pretty, Yangyang thinks absentmindedly, staring at Jaemin.

Wait.

Yangyang freezes, blinking rapidly. What just happened?

Did he just— 

No, he needs to get a grip. This world isn’t real. Jaemin isn’t real, the cafe isn’t real, and this world most  _ certainly _ isn’t real. They’re all just NPCs. Characters in a game. Code in a computer. All hooked up to a machine, metaphorically, waiting for their inevitable end by reliving the same week over and over again.

Yangyang squeezes his eyes shut, trying to slip into comfortable silence to recompose. It’s natural. It’s familiar. It’s a routine, at this point.

Wake up, try to strong arm someone into falling in love with someone else, watch the plan fail miserably, the dagger appears, and the world glitches out and resets itself. Yangyang doesn’t know  _ when _ he became so used to his new life, but it’s his reality now. His sad, neverending reality.

“Of course it’s the usual, Sungie. It’s Lele. You know how he is about routines,” Jaemin’s teasing voice comes like clockwork, the interaction being one Yangyang’s seen a dozen times.

“Sungie’s just the only one to do it right!” Chenle argues, leaning over the counter with a playful smile as Jisung’s cheeks dust pink. He’s the alternative ending if Sungchan fails in pursuing Chenle, after all.

Secretly, Yangyang prefers that ending. In that one, Chenle doesn’t fly into Shotaro’s radar, dagger and all. It doesn’t get easier to watch, no matter how many times he’s seen it.

_ Ding _ . The cafe door swings open, revealing the next influx of customers and Yangyang snaps to attention. He follows the crowd with rapt attention, searching for a familiar pair of bodies, landing on them a few meters before the counter.

Shotaro is laughing at something Sungchan said, hand politely covering his mouth as his eyes practically disappear. He drowns in the hoodie Yangyang initially stole from Sungchan’s closet. He looks better in it than both of them, the loose material hanging off of his shoulder like a giant fluffy blanket, making Shotaro somehow even more warm and cuddly.

Sungchan has a lazy, lopsided grin on his face as he stares at Shotaro, the very epitome of lovesick. Yangyang’s heart melts at the sight, every core philosophy he had coming into the game eroding with every reboot. He wants to let Sungchan and Shotaro become the couple they were destined to be. He wants to let the week be theirs, free of Yangyang’s stupid meddling. He wants to set them free.

He made a promise to himself coming into this nightmare, but Yangyang isn’t so sure he can hate the problem any longer.

Like clockwork, Sungchan ends up almost failing to seduce Chenle too. They spend days in the cafe and school library together under the pretense of studying. Sungchan, to his credit, tries his hardest to flirt, but Yangyang knows his heart isn’t in it. Yangyang ends up taking him to the store again, just like they have to do every reboot. Standing in front of TY Essentials, Yangyang can’t help but feel his palms clam up. It’s familiar—too familiar—how often he’s been driven to this point. Improving the relationship meter superficially.

“Hello, and welcome to TY Essentials! How can I help you?” a loud, boisterous voice calls out, bounding over from the counter. Yangyang fights the grin bubbling on his face. Haechan is another staple of the story, the Shop NPC who works at every store Sungchan visits in the game, apart from Neo Cafe. He’s their NPC model, with about 40 percent of the games’ background people just being various repaints of Haechan. Yangyang’s fellow game designer Donghyuck made the Haechans his signature in the game as a joke, but it stuck. Seeing Sungchan confusedly recognizing Haechan everywhere was simply too funny.

“Um, yes,” Sungchan stammers, turning to Yangyang tentatively as he leans over. “How can he help us?” Sungchan hisses. Yangyang resists the urge to roll his eyes and points towards one of the aisles. Stocked full of calculators, it’s certainly an odd sight once you peer close enough to notice. Yangyang doesn’t pay it any mind.

“Lele likes calculators. Just throw a couple of them at him,” Yangyang deadpans, trying to sound the slightest bit enthusiastic. It doesn’t matter, as Sungchan just gives him a court nod and turns to Donghyuck. In that fraction of a second, Yangyang’s gaze drifts to Haechan, who’s staring at him intently. Yangyang flinches from the intensity of the gaze, trying to mentally brush it off. Haechan’s just an NPC. He’s probably staring at Sungchan, who’s next to Yangyang. Yes, that’s right. NPCs can’t acknowledge Yangyang, other than Shotaro.

And yet, Yangyang can’t brush the gaze off. The thought replays over and over in his brain, the metaphorical daggers from Haechan’s stare digs into Yangyang’s skin like needles. He can’t even focus on his favourite part of every week, when Sungchan is awkwardly standing in front of Chenle, gingerly holding the boxes of calculators in his hands. It’s only when Sungchan is staring at Yangyang’s vague direction with mild panic in his face that Yangyang snaps back to attention.

The rest of the cafe is still bustling, full of NPCs filtering in and out, some hurriedly grabbing and chugging their coffee before class (Chenle) while others are lazily milling around, enjoying the cafe’s atmosphere (Yangyang). Chenle is leaning against the pickup counter, his conversation with his barista friend Jisung behind the counter halted when Sungchan called him earlier. He’s frozen now, just like normal dating sims, waiting patiently for Sungchan’s next option.

‘Throw it!’ Yangyang mouths, pointing at Chenle. Technically, Sungchan doesn’t have to chuck it at Chenle for the game to register it, but it’s always funnier this way. Yangyang’s rebooted a hundred times already. A dude’s gotta have his fun.

Sungchan stares back, confusion knitting his eyebrows together. Yangyang fights back the urge to smile, nodding vehemently. Sungchan is still tense as he hesitantly nods back, biting his bottom lip and turning to Chenle.

“Um,” Sungchan starts, biting his bottom lip. “I’ve got a gift for you?”

Chenle cocks his head, a pleasantly amused smile on his lips. He does that a lot, Yangyang’s grown to notice, picking up the sublest of clues. Realistically, Yangyang knows it’s a result of his developer friend and his ridiculously detailed coding, but it’s still amazing to him how lifelike Chenle is. As if he was built on a real human.

“Oh really,” Chenle teases, the smile on his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “What is it?”

Yangyang resists the urge to scoff. Chenle’s cute, sure, but he’s really just not Yangyang’s type. Too forward. Sungchan, on the other hand, doesn’t seem fazed. He seems to be as nervous as he could be, swinging his arm back to aim his first box.

_ Thunk!  _

Yangyang bursts out in cackles, disappearing into thin air to mask himself as he watches the calculator boxes continue to bounce off of Chenle’s head like the ball pit at a five year old birthday party. Yangyang’s knees give out in giggles, watching Sungchan’s expression morph into a mix of shock and horror as Chenle’s green relationship meter shoots up rapidly.

The rest of the cafe continues without a care in the world, as if what was happening was a daily occurrence. Granted, it’s not like they’re programmed to react to these things. Regardless, it’s too funny.

Yangyang takes a moment of laughing break when Sungchan runs out of gifts, awkwardly standing in anticipation. Chenle’s green bar is nearly maxed out now, which means…

“Oh I see what you’re doing, Chanchan,” Chenle drawls, the smirk on his face growing wider as he leaps off of the counter. He latches onto Sungchan immediately, placing both hands on Sungchan’s left shoulder as he practically jumps onto him.

“I—” Sungchan begins, face growing red. Yangyang snorts again at the scene. Sngchan was so usually the flirty one, it’s hilarious seeing him so flustered like this. Chenle is amazing, indeed.

“That’s okay, Chanchan~ I know what you want, baby~” Chenle says sweetly, voice almost saccharine as he reaches up to pinch Sungchan’s cheek.

“You do?” Sungchan asks, confused. His entire face is red now, although Yangyang can tell it’s less from the thumping attractIon he was hoping for and more from pure confusion because of the moment.

“Of course I do!” Chenle chirps brightly. “Don’t worry, Chanchan, you’ve done enough. I’ll take it from here.”

Sungchan’s mouth hangs agape, unable to respond as he stares at Chenle dumbly. Chenle detaches himself from Sungchan, standing up straight and jabbing a finger towards Sungchan. The smirk on his face is characteristically wide again, the green heart bar above his head glaring at Yangyang even from the off-angle.

“I, Zhong Chenle, Universe Superstar and Genius of NCT U, agree to go on a date with you, most adorable and brave baby Chanchan! No need to thank me, this is an honour I will grace to you for only a small price,” Chenle declares. Sungchan’s cheeks are flaming red now, absolutely comical as he struggles to open his mouth.

“P-price?” Sungchan asks. Chenle nods, still the very image of self confidence.

“Of course there is a price,” Chenle rolls his eyes, prancing over to Sungchan and leaning up to his tiptoes to place a peck onto his cheek. The gesture is brief, lasting only mere moments before Chenle pulls away. Sungchan, poor boy, looks like he’s on the verge of combustion.

“I expect a full one on our date, Chanchan!” Chenle calls, turning on his heel to walk out. “7 o’clock, Dream Stadium! You better show up dressed pretty, or I’m calling this off!”

And with that, the cafe door swings close, the bell ringing again as Sungchan stares after Chenle, jaw open in shock. Yangyang explodes again for the second time in less than five minutes, reappearing just so Sungchan can see exactly how hard Yangyang is laughing at him. His cheeks dust red.

“Shut up!” Sungchan mutters, chest puffed out in denial. “I wasn’t…  _ that _ flustered.”

Yangyang only cackles harder. Sungchan glares at him, stepping up to the counter to grab his drink before storming off to his table with Shotaro. Yangyang calms down after a few more minutes, enjoying this way too much even after thirty or so times.

He inhales, trying to catch his breath as he leans on the counter. His eyes naturally gravitate towards Sungchan and Shotaro’s spot, where Shotaro is animatedly congratulating Sungchan for his ‘smashing success’. If Yangyang peers closer, he can see amusement dancing in his eyes in tandem with soft fondness.

Yangyang doesn’t know how he does it, embracing the heartbreak that comes with seeing the person he likes pursuing others hundreds of times. Maybe it’s the secret knowledge that Sungchan’s heart is his no matter what, and that the game can never truly be won. Maybe it’s the concept of sitting with Sungchan and laughing about anything and everything, hands intertwined under the table as if they thought no one was looking.

Yangyang knows he should despise it. Knows he should be utterly frustrated at the confirmation that his plan has failed, again. Knows he should split them up again, before what happened the last hundred reboots happen again.

But he can’t. Not when both of them look perfect together like this, heads resting comfortably against one anothers’ as they stare at the funny video on Shotaro’s phone, giggling to themselves. It looks so natural. So loving.

So…  _ right _ .

So Yangyang turns away, pretending he doesn’t see the premature game over as he whirls to stare at the kids behind the counter again. He catches Jisung this time, staring absentmindedly at Chenle’s cute barista friend while his brain loops the sight of Sungchan and Shotaro knocking heads together like a married couple.

Jisung is working routinely, his movements almost lazily robotic as he pours cream into the coffee cup. His attention isn’t on the cup, however, staring wistfully at the door instead. Yangyang frowns, brows furrowing together. He’s never seen this before.

“Hey, pay attention,” a voice calls out, snapping Yangyang out of his daze and Jisung back to the cup. Yangyang blinks, watching as Jaemin bumps his shoulder into Jisung’s carefully to remind him about the cup of coffee. He looks like a doting friend, a small look of pity on his face as he stares at Jisung. Pretty  _ and _ caring? Jaemin should’ve been another route, really, with his gentle touches and calming smile.

Wait.

Shit. Yangyang’s getting distracted again.

“Sorry, I just…” Jisung mutters, shaking his head rapidly as he sets the cream pitcher down. Jaemin’s lips curl into a comforting smile.

“It’s okay,” Jaemin reassures him, a gentle hand on Jisung’s back. Suddenly, he turns to look over Jisung’s shoulder and right at Yangyang, as if intending the next message for him. Yangyang freezes, not knowing how to respond.

Did Jaemin just… acknowledge his presence? But that’s impossible. That isn’t how NPCs are supposed to react.

“You’ll get another chance,” Jaemin says rather loudly, definitely pointing it towards Yangyang now. “You can do the right thing then. Just let love happen. Naturally. The way it should be.”

The thing is, Yangyang didn’t mean for the next five or so reboots to blend. Shotaro’s started to give him weird looks in their limbo phase, asking about Yangyang’s lack of pushiness towards Sungchan in the past few updates. The lack of Yangyang in general, actually. Yangyang waves him off with a hand and suggests another of the numerous coded routes, trying to pretend everything’s just normal.

The world would boot up again, the same sickeningly repetitive melody of Dunk Shot worming its way into Yangyang’s brain as he watches the world load in. He doesn’t so much as greet Sungchan in the later updates, slipping right into invisible mode as he lets preprogrammed game text explain the world instead. Yangyang’s only a supplement, after all, here to try and steer Sungchan in the right direction.

These days, he’s a little more preoccupied with other things.

“Welcome to Neo Cafe,” Jaemin chirps, a customer service smile plastered on his face as his club of fangirls trickle in. Yangyang sneaks in with the crowd, invisible as he takes up his spot just to the left of the counter, staring animatedly at the pretty boy who seems to light up the room all by himself.

He’s learnt lots about Jaemin in the weeks he’s spent half stalking the guy. He learns that Jaemin is also a student at NCT U, learning programming while juggling his cafe duties and being Jisung’s relationship counsellor. Yangyang’s learnt that in the endings where Sungchan doesn’t try (and fail) to flirt with Chenle, Jisung works up the courage to ask him out instead. If he thought the kids were cute before, then seeing them get together is a million times better.

Sometimes, Jaemin would toss glances Yangyang’s way, small looks that seem to hide a lifetime of meaning. Yangyang doesn’t quite understand the actions, barely brushing them off at first before coming to accept them. He doesn’t know if Jaemin can see him or not, but the idea alone feels… nice.

The first time he works up the courage to show himself, his theory is confirmed nearly instantly.

Yangyang had the foresight to do it on Sunday, of course, mere hours before the practically scheduled end of the game. Jaemin is closing up the cafe, wiping down the tables with a rag as Yangyang materializes in front of him, lips pursed tightly together. Jaemin looks up calmly, as if he had expected Yangyang’s presence, weirdly enough.

“Hi,” Yangyang mutters, voice small and sheepish. He doesn’t expect an answer. After all, Yangyang isn’t supposed to be seen by the NPCs. It’s how he was coded. And yet… 

The corner of Jaemin’s lips tug into a slight smile, before recomposing as he points to the sign on the door. “We’re closed,” he says. Yangyang freezes, blinking at him. This just happened. Jaemin just responded to him, contrary to everything he believed. Jaemin can see him.

This must be another bug.

Jaemin suddenly laughs, snapping Yangyang out of his daze. There’s a playful grin on his face as he straightens, leaving the table to move to another one to clean. Yangyang trails after him like a puppy, legs moving before his brain does.

“I assure you, I’m no bug,” Jaemin says simply. “Very much real. There’s no bug in Neo City, after all. Everything is happening exactly how it’s supposed to.”

Yangyang freezes, frozen in place. “What do you mean?” Yangyang asks, confused. “You— you must be a part of the bug. You’re an NPC, aren’t you? How can you notice me unless it’s a bug?”  
Jaemin’s smile is sweet but mysterious.

“What’s your favourite coffee?” Jaemin asks, dropping his rag onto the table as he walks towards the counter. Yangyang follows him hesitantly, not sure what to do. His brain hasn’t quite caught up yet, still confused.

“I like iced matcha latte,” Yangyang says absentmindedly, slowly easing up as Jaemin starts twisting knobs and pushing buttons on the coffee machine. Yangyang watches him work in mild fascination, even though he’s been watching it for the past five reboots. Jaemin looks strangely in his element amongst the whole thing.

“What do you like then?” Yangyang asks, breaking the silence. Jaemin looks up.

“8 shot espresso,” Jaemin says without missing a beat. Yangyang flinches.

“8 shot— how do you  _ sleep _ ?” Yangyang asks, appalled as his nose scrunches up. He can’t imagine all of the caffeine pumping through Jaemin’s veins right now. He’s practically an addict, it seems.

“Good enough. I sleep better with someone else, though,” Jaemin winks, sliding a cup over the counter. Yangyang blinks, flinching slightly. He hadn’t realized Jaemin was done.

“You don’t even know me,” Yangyang points out. Jaemin’s eyes twinkle as he picks up his cup too, leaning over the counter to close the distance between them. Yangyang retracts, leaving nothing but a few centimetres between their noses.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Yangie,” Jaemin says mysteriously.

Before Yangyang could answer, the floor shakes, like an earthquake was happening. The lights flicker, half on and half off as they start to shake sporadically. Yangyang nearly loses his balance, looking up to see Jaemin staring at him sweetly again.

“It’s happening,” Jaemin hums, staring at the breaking world with his cup of coffee still in hand. “Isn’t it? Shame. I was hoping for a little more time to break the truth to you.”

Yangyang stumbles, falling to his knees as he stares up, confused. Why was Jaemin so calm? Is this a product of the bug? Maybe he’s like Shotaro?

Or maybe… 

“What  _ are _ you?” Yangyang shouts into the fading world.

Jaemin straightens, a non-committal hum burning low in his throat.

“I’ll tell you soon, Yangie. My lost little sheep, all lost in this game that’s so much bigger than you think. There’s no bug in Neo City, Yangie. Not with Shotaro, not with Sungchan and certainly not with me. Everything is going all according to plan. Besides…”

Jaemin leans over and closes the distance between them, placing a kiss on Yangyang’s nose.

“...Aren’t you tired of forcing love?”

Yangyang stumbles again, tossed to the floor again. He jerks upwards, whipping his head back to Jaemin just in time to see him fade out, the smile on his face not wavering for even a second. Yangyang’s mouth falls open in confusion, unable to wrap his head around what the  _ hell _ just happened.

The last thing Jaemin says before he disappears completely rings in Yangyang’s ear like a faulty metronome, looping over and over.

_ Aren’t you tired of forcing love? _

“Are you… in love?” Shotaro asks during the reboot, this one ending even before their usual Sunday. Sungchan and Shotaro have been spending more time with each other in the reboots, which only jump starts the bug. The knife’s been appearing much too quickly as the reboots progresses, sometimes without Yangyang even noticing the world is fading until he sees everything glitching. He always barely makes it in time to make Sungchan reboot the game.

“I will neither confirm nor deny that fact,” Yangyang deadpans, trying to school his expression. Shotaro’s head cocks to the side, staring intently at Yangyang. Yangyang blinks, confused.

“What?” Yangyang asks as Shotaro’s lips curl into his cute cheeky smile.

“You  _ are _ in love, aren’t you?” Shotaro teases, amusement dancing in his eyes. Yangyang freezes, lips hanging open without a retort. Shotaro pounces on the silence almost immediately, eyes widening comically.

“Wait, really?” Shotaro gasps. Yangyang grunts, waving him off.

“I am  _ not _ in love,” Yangyang grumbles, trying to scowl. Shotaro catches it nonetheless.

“Now you know what it feels like, don’t you?” Shotaro grins, leaning back on his hands as he grins at Yangyang. “Falling in love with someone you’re not supposed to.”

Yangyang is silent.

Shotaro sighs, turning his head to the sky. “I don’t know how long I can keep doing this, Yangie,” Shotaro mutters. For some reason, this is what piques Yangyang’s attention, pulling him out of the daze he’s been in, looping Jaemin’s mysterious question over and over in his mind. Isn’t Yangyang tired of forcing love? Of tearing a natural couple apart… for what? To fix a game Yangyang isn’t sure he even knows at this point?

“You don’t have to—” Yangyang begins, looking up to try and face Shotaro. Instead, he’s greeted to a canvas of white, no Shotaro in sight. Yangyang flinches, jumping to his feet as confusion settles in.

“Taro?” Yangyang calls out. He whips his head around the space, trying to find his only friend in this weird limbo. This never happens. This isn’t part of the routine. What—

Yangyang freezes.

“Jaemin,” Yangyang breathes, frozen in place. Jaemin is standing in front of him, very much not rebooted. He’s not wearing the barista uniform Yangyang’s grown used to these past few weeks, donning a pretty white hoodie and holding a glowing white orb in his hands. Yangyang bites his bottom lip hesitantly.

“What’s going on?” Yangyang asks, helplessly lost.

Jaemin smiles at him, tossing the ball into the air. “Just watch, will you?” Jaemin asks.

And who was Yangyang to say no?

_ “Welcome to Neo City, the number one program for psychological counselling!” a voice chirps, dapper and bright. Yangyang looks up from his brochure, scanning the reception area of the clinic. Yangyang looks back to the brochure his best friend Jaemin gave him a week ago, along with a flight ticket to Seoul and a gentle smile on his lips. _

_ “I’ve already taken care of everything, Yangie. This is an intervention. You can’t keep going like this.” _

_ Neo City Counselling Program, it was called. A simulation of sorts, where a machine would dig into the darkest parts of Yangyang’s brain and make him relive the most important period in his life in a week to help him come to terms with his past. It was kind of a slap to the face, to have your closest friend tell you directly that your life is falling apart. _

_ The thing is, Yangyang isn’t sure what happened. He’s had what he likes to call The Standard Human Life, the Gay Edition. Sure, Yangyang’s moved a lot in his life, from Taiwan to Germany to Seoul to Hong Kong and too many more to count, before finally arriving in Tokyo. He’s following his work, a freelance science journalist with a penchant for adventure. Settling down isn’t his style, anyway. He’s always been one to spend a week or two at most in one place, make fast friends and relationships, before taking off again. _

_ The longest period of his adult life he’s spent in one spot? Tokyo. Yangyang had started there for a piece on the correlation of pop culture and influence on youth, swayed by the pretty lights and delicious food to extend his stay and take up a contract job with a local science journal. _

_ The stay was supposed to be for six months, but Yangyang got attached. He made friends, finding old classmates from his time at SNU in Korea and their new friends. Yangyang slowly got used to a settled life, finding routine for the first time in his life. He changed, mellowing out from his loud and spontaneous personality to become shier, more quiet and introspective. _

_ With the sudden new time to finally think, it’s no wonder Yangyang breaks. _

_ Yangyang’s new best friend Jaemin is the first to watch Yangyang shatter. For a whole week, Yangyang had watched all of his new friends in their new lives, all adjusted to a routine and feeling utterly mundane while here he was, trying to force himself into a pattern. They say water can’t be controlled, only seeking to rebel and break out of its container when forced into a closed off cage. Jaemin compares Yangyang to water. _

_ He suggests finding love, because there’s nothing more mundane than domestic love, but that was Jaemin’s greatest mistake. Yangyang spent his life on the move specifically because he hated love. Hated the idea of being tied down to someone, only to inevitably leave them again. He’s like water, flowing from one place to another without any care for ground to settle on. _

_ Still, Yangyang tries. _

_ He falls in love with two boys in the span of six months, in fact. _

_ First, there was Mark. Bright and gentle, he felt less like a lover and more like a doting older brother. He was a music producer, showing Yangyang the magic of travelling with music instead of with his body. He was Yangyang’s first love, in a way, showing him all kinds of happiness that routine and domesticity can offer. _

_ A month and a half into their relationship, Mark moves back to Seoul. _

_ It hurt, of course it did, but it was planned from the start. Mark had planned the move even before they got together, and Yangyang knew it. Still, he went for it. Forced himself to love someone to try and understand the appeal of routine for his own sake. After all, if it didn’t work out, Mark was going away anyway, right? _

_ But that’s the problem with routine. You get attached. _

_ And boy did Yangyang get attached to Mark. _

_ They broke up nonetheless, as per the agreement from the start. Mark tells him to find someone who can give him permanency, someone who he can love without a deadline. That’s the true appeal of domesticity. The permanentness of it. _

_ The second boy Yangyang falls for is even more pitiful for him. Chenle is snarky and charismatic where Yangyang is shy and easily flustered. They hit it off easily, falling into an easy pattern of teasing and prodding. Yangyang falls for him almost immediately, mesmerized by Chenle’s animated way of storytelling and his genius at charading words he doesn’t know. _

_ But where Mark had given Yangyang a taste of love, even with a deadline, his time with Chenle was over before it even started. _

_ The problem was simple: Chenle was in love with Park Jisung, the cute dancer at the studio they all frequent due to the majority of mutual friends who work there. _

_ Yangyang had watched helplessly as they fell in love and got together, becoming what he likes to call the End-All of Cute Couples. The routine he’s been searching for so hard slips through his fingers again, and he’s running out of time. He doesn’t have many reasons to stay in Tokyo anymore, but he can’t exactly leave, at the same time. It’s the same as Mark. Yangyang’s relationship with Chenle would’ve had a deadline anyway. His entire life was just deadline after deadline, punctuated with every call he gets to fly to some new remote place in the world. _

_ Jaemin says he’s running away from his problems. But then again, Jaemin has a routine life consisting of babying his friends and editing romance novels. He has no right to judge. _

_ “You’re trying too hard to force this,” Jaemin tells him once, three weeks before Yangyang’s deadline to respond if he wants to stay in Tokyo or move on. Yangyang doesn’t answer him. _

_ “You’re the one who said I need someone to tie me down,” Yangyang retorts, voice slurred from the cheap alcohol they’ve been drinking all night. _

_ “You can’t force yourself to fall in love with someone,” Jaemin sighs, exasperated. Yangyang ignores him. _

_ “I haven’t been forcing myself to do anything, thank you very much,” Yangyang snaps back. Jaemin sighs again. He’s really been doing it too much lately. _

_ “You’re trying to force yourself to stay,” Jaemin snaps, evidently fed up with Yangyang. “You’re trying to force yourself to routine. Trying to change yourself before you’re ready for it. You can’t… I suggested love because it’s natural. It’s something to ease into. But instead of finding love, all you found is more instability. It’s not working, Yangie. You’re hurting yourself.” _

_ Yangyang can’t retort that. _

_ So he follows Jaemin’s advice. He signs up for the simulation program, promising an afternoon that can solve his entire life so long as he’s cooperative. Come to terms with his past. Finally get rid of his stigma with deadlines and the inevitableness of everything. _

_ That didn’t happen. _

_ Yangyang ends up stuck in the simulation, too wrapped up in the story the clinicians have created to break from it. He becomes even more closeted, diving deeper into his memories and trying to expand further and further into his memories. He never stays stuck on a period for too long, trying to bounce from week to week to stop himself from spiralling. The doctors couldn’t get him out. He was in too deep. _

_ One of the doctors, a brilliant programmer named Jung Sungchan who had been an old classmate of Yangyang’s, came up with the solution. They forced him into a position of power, creating a story with an impossible goal for him to reach through strong-arming. He’d have to let everything happen naturally, the very thing Yangyang couldn’t ever do. _

_ On the fifteenth attempt at creating a story for Yangyang, Sungchan called Jaemin from Japan to help. _

_ And thus, the dating sim was born. _

Yangyang blinks, recoiling in shock as the light around him fades away, returning to the blank white room. Yangyang bites his bottom lip, brain whirring at a million miles per hour.

The game was all fake, after all. He’s not some frustrated game designer. He’s just an overly attached, temperamental control freak.

“That’s one way to put it,” Jaemin laughs, snapping Yangyang out of his daze. Yangyang whips his head towards him, guilt pooling in the pit of his stomach.

“Fifteen attempts,” Yangyang mutters, trying to scan his brain for them. “Fifteen tries at this and I haven’t changed a bit.”

He pauses, suddenly hesitant. “I failed again, didn’t I?”

Jaemin’s lips curl into a smile. “You let Shotaro and Sungchan get their way, didn’t you?” Jaemin points out. “You let the world unfold on its own while you spent your reboots staring at me instead.”

Yangyang’s cheeks dust pink. He opens his mouth to say something, before a thought struck him.

“Why… why did you keep trying? Aren’t I a lost cause at this point? I only paid for a week, didn’t I? And you came all the way here just to…” Yangyang trails off halfheartedly. Jaemin purses his lips, looking conflicted.

“We did it,” Jaemin says quickly, changing the subject. “You can wake up now. You’ve learnt to do things naturally, instead of forcing everything.”

Yangyang frowns. “You’re avoiding the question,” he starts. The world starts to glare a little more, the white fading away into black as it threatens to consume everything. Panic rises in Yangyang’s chest. No, not yet. He needs answers. Jaemin’s withholding something, he knows it.

“Learnt from the best,” Jaemin says halfheartedly, a smile on his lips. Yangyang furrows his brow together.

“That’s not—” Yangyang begins, interrupted by the fading black creeping up his leg and scaring him. He’s disappearing, Yangyang realizes, losing feeling in his limbs. The panic inside escalates. A prick goes off in his brain as the story’s memories fade in with new ones. Ones from someone real. Ones from the real world.

“—what you mean? I know. It doesn’t matter though,” Jaemin smiles, fading too. Yangyang turns back to him at the last second, reality slowly seeping back into his brain. He’s a travelling scientific journalist. He lives in Tokyo, Japan, with his best friends who are trying their best to get him to stay. His roommate Jaemin is trying the hardest, coming with Yangyang to a clinic in Seoul to try and help Yangyang finally get over his control freak tendencies.

His roommate Jaemin.

No, something’s missing.

“Why a dating sim?” Yangyang cries out again. “Why must it be love that you’re trying to convince me with? If it’s just attachment, wouldn’t friendship be more real? Unless—”

And then, it clicks.

Jaemin smiles at Yangyang again, fading into black as he opens his mouth one last time.

“See you on the other side, boyfriend. I hope you’ll fall in love with me properly this time.”


End file.
